Seven Tears at High Tide (5 page)

He pulls the stones from the bucket and starts to polish them, whistling as he does.

Four.

Many things about
being a human take a while for Morgan to get used to: the way his body needs to balance itself when he walks, the way sound isn't a feeling, the whole way the world looks. The way the human eye sees colors is one of the most interesting things; so many different shades appear in abundance, everywhere. It's all dazzling and beautiful.

Some of his abilities as a selkie cross over to his human form as well: the acute sense of smell by which they can recognize one another out of the water and sense emotions. It's so interesting, the clouds of contentment and exhaustion and joy and hunger and excitement that float around the humans Morgan has interacted with. The most interesting is Kevin, of course, who still carries an underlying scent of loneliness and dejection, but there were many moments during their outing when he smelled of nothing but interest and a quiet, flourishing happiness. Morgan is pleased that he seems to be doing well in providing Kevin the companionship he asked for in his Request.

The best part about human culture is the food. It's so different, so strange. The first time Kevin gave him a food gift, Morgan's whole perspective changed. He still enjoys snapping fish right out of the water, fresh and raw, but the fried food was so
delicious.

Morgan doesn't normally hunt this long if he's on his own and not part of the hunting party tasked with bringing food back to the herd. He would usually only eat his fill and move on, but today he's determined to return Kevin's favor. He swims, finding relief in returning to the water as a seal, listening for schools of fish. The Sea welcomes him back; the old collective magic of the depths offer encouragements. A wealth of knowledge flows here, centuries of stories and spells and emotions fed to the oceans, dreams and hopes and desires.

Morgan should probably consult how previous Requests were filled and learn more from the Sea about the human world. But there is only so much transference; the gift of language and under­standing is inherent, but many details don't cross over in translation. The Sea understands emotion better than mundane, concrete facts; Morgan knows Kevin is lonely, knows about what he wants and what he fears, but he doesn't understand some of the things he talks about.

It's fine. Morgan learns best by doing, anyway. He learned to swim this way, throwing himself into stronger currents than his mother allowed. She worried, but Morgan figured it out eventually. The same with hunting: Because he was the only halfling, the herd always babied him, but Morgan works hard to be a useful member of his family.

He's an excellent hunter. There's no one to show off to now, but Morgan is diligent, concentrating on getting as many fish as he can. He's ruthless, grabbing one fat fish after another and tossing them in a pile of seaweed. Unsure what Kevin will like, he gets a variety. By the time the sun comes up, Morgan has a formidable, twitching pile of fish and he's never been more proud.

Morgan wraps the food gift in the prettiest pieces of kelp he can find. He almost wants to show this bounty to his cousin Micah, who's always rubbing it in his face that he's a poor excuse for a selkie. Morgan snorts. He bets this is more fish than Micah has ever caught at a time and tries to imagine his poor cousin's expression when he realizes the poor halfling is a better hunter than he'll ever be.

Being a halfling is not something for which Morgan is often teased in the selkie community. Over the generations there have been a few halflings, children born to selkies and humans, some who met through Requests and others by chance. He knows he's the first in a long, long while, and he doesn't know much about his human father, except that he'd done the disgraceful thing and stolen his mother's pelt, hiding it from her, trapping her in her human form in hope of keeping her forever.

Morgan remembers asking about his father, but it always seemed to make his mother sad. Despite the stoic face she presents to the rest of the herd there is always an undercurrent of loss in the awe-filled stories—exaggerated, Morgan's sure—of finding her pelt and stealing away with it, pregnant and triumphant in the middle of the night, then returning to the Sea where she belonged.

With Morgan, she's never used the same language the herd does, never called his father a cruel kidnapper or a grubby mudwalker. Whenever he came to her with questions, her mood changed and she would look out toward the Sea. Eventually she would kiss Morgan on the forehead and tell him not to worry about it. Morgan learned quickly to stop asking.

Did she love his father? Does she miss him? Does she wish their story had ended differently?

Morgan shakes himself. It won't do to put himself into that sad, curious mood about his parents. He focuses on admiring how lovely his food gift looks all wrapped up and tucks another piece of kelp securely around it.

“You should do a bow,” says a voice behind him; the familiarity of it is soft on his skin.

“A what?”

“Humans totally do it on their presents.” Naida flicks a piece of kelp at him. “I should know; I spent a good year on land.”

Morgan doesn't need reminding; Naida flaunts her knowledge of human culture every chance she gets, choosing to speak as they do all the time, which is annoying, since the Sea has little information on the specifics of human vernacular.

Morgan is tempted to ask her about this bow, but he doesn't want to give Naida the satisfaction, so he scrunches up his face. “What are you doing here? I'm on my way to shore.”

“Yeah, yeah, you have a Request, chosen by the Council, blah blah blah.” Naida flips over onto her back and swims in lazy circles around Morgan. “I mean, I'm the one with more experience with humans. Even Micah's spent more time with them than you. I can't believe they picked you. I mean, not that I don't think you're lovable, little brother, but I really don't think you can pull this off. You don't know anything about being human. I'm kind of surprised, you know, with you being half and all.”

“Well, I'm learning.” Morgan tugs his package of fish closer to himself and swims away from his sister. He's closer to Naida than to his other siblings. She never brings up the difference in their heritage, and that she's done that now so casually hurts him more than he wants to admit.

Morgan's tried his whole life to avoid shifting like the others, who change on a whim between seal and human as if it was a game, or even like Naida, who spends months at a time on land masquerading as human, even spending an entire year with them.

He's always been painfully aware of his status as halfling; although his mother takes care to treat him the same as all the other children she's had over her years, there's a very obvious gap in age that will always remind the herd where Morgan came from, and what it cost them while their leader was absent for years, trapped as a human. Naida and the older brood are all at least ten years older than he; Dorian and the younger pups are about ten years younger. His mother was reluctant to take another mate after she returned, but she had to take the diminishing herd numbers into consideration.

Morgan's tried all his life to prove that he has a place in the herd, proving that he is a fantastic swimmer, a good hunter and a watchful member of those who live in the Sea. He's curious, sure, but has kept his interest in the human world well under wraps. He doesn't want to seem less of a selkie.

But it's apparently worked to his disadvantage, since his lack of knowledge might keep him from doing well with Kevin's Request.

Naida's expression softens, and she shifts into her human form, grabs a piece of kelp and ties it attractively around his package. “Here. This is a bow.” She pushes it back at him and pats his cheek. “You didn't let me finish. I meant I don't think you can pull this off without my help.”

“Thank you for the bow.” Morgan tries to take the package back, but her hands have a better grip than his flippers, so he shifts as well, then pulls the fish toward himself. His pelt hangs loosely around his shoulders, and it seems precarious and unsafe, as though it might get swept away with an oncoming wave.

Naida doesn't seem to have that worry, her pelt having already fallen off in the scuffle. They laugh as they pull back and forth; her sealskin bobs casually in the water next to them.

“Let go,” Morgan says. “This is a gift for Kevin.”

“This is a gift for Kevin,” Naida mocks, and then she does let go, causing Morgan to fly backward, splashing as he hits the water.

Naida laughs as Morgan flails, trying to regain his balance.

“Your skin!” Morgan calls out in a panic as it starts to drift away on a retreating wave.

Naida swims swiftly after it, catching up to her pelt easily and then shifts back without a blink of an eye. She head butts him playfully. “Aw, you're so cute when you worry.”

“Aren't you afraid you'll lose it?”

“Not here.” Naida gestures at the open water around them. “On land, though, I've had a few close calls.” She laughs again, as if the idea of losing her sealskin is exciting, nothing more than another story to impress the other selkies.

Morgan shifts back into a seal, feeling more comfortable in this body. He can't imagine losing this ability.

“Hey, so bows aren't the only human thing I know about,” Naida says. “C'mon, let me swim with you to shore and I'll tell you everything there is to know about humans. What have you two done so far? Have you gone on a date?”

“What is that?” Kevin's said that word a few times, but Morgan is pretty sure Kevin doesn't mean it as a specific day of the year. The first time they walked down to the cove together to look for rocks, Kevin wanted to be very specific that it wasn't a date, but then at the food place someone else thought it was. He explains all of this to Naida, who, to his surprise, listens intently without offering any teasing comments.

“It sounds like he wants to be friends,” Naida says, humming thoughtfully. “That's all fine. You can still fulfill the conditions of the Request—this Kevin only wanted someone to spend time with whom he
could
love. Besides, humans think about these things differently than we do. It's a little complicated.”

“Yeah.” Morgan sighs, thinking of Kevin's face when he told him he loved him.

“It'll work out, Morgan. Look, a date is what humans call it when two people spend time together and they are both interested romantically in each other. People can do lots of different things, like eat food together, or watch movies.”

Morgan blows bubbles in the water irreverently, shaking his head. “We walked together and collected rocks. He likes those. And we've eaten food together.” They should be doing all the things Kevin mentioned in his Request—and one of them was to watch movies with someone. Movies are something Morgan definitely has yet to do with Kevin. “So what are these movies?”

Naida giggles. “Oh, they're brilliant. I miss them. I totally would come ashore and see if I could sneak into a theater or something, but Mother said specifically no one but you is allowed on land. Something about us bothering you on your Request, making fun of you and stuff.” Naida does a glib little flip, flicking water at Morgan.

“I have no idea why she made that rule,” Morgan says dryly. “It's not like you guys ever make fun of me.”

Naida ignores him, sighing wistfully. “It's fine. I don't think there's a theater in town anyway.” She swims idly next to him, talking excitedly about some human quest to destroy a ring and it all sounds very complicated and it's really not helping Morgan at all.

“You still haven't explained what a movie is. All you've been doing is talking about this Aragorn person,” Morgan huffs.

“Oh! Right, right. Well, humans have recorded these stories, kind of like how we tell each other stories, but they've also got this magic that lets you see it happen! You'll have to tell me if you watch any of those.”

Morgan swims with Naida as she starts telling him how amazing it is, how the moving pictures and the stories come to life. Soon she is talking more about this lord who has many rings and then other movies she saw when she was on land. Naida segues easily into her adventures, going off on tangents about the friends she's made, foods she's eaten.

Morgan is still a little worried that Kevin doesn't want to date him, and that Kevin not loving him will result in him not fulfilling the terms of the Request. This is the first time he's been given an assignment, and he means to see it through. Selkies are supposed to be able to bridge the world of the Sea and the world ashore, to be able to interact with humans and remind them that magic still exists in the world. To fulfill a Request is a high honor, knowing it carries this old purpose of bridging the two worlds for only this brief time. Successfully completing a number of Requests ensures a selkie herd the goodwill of the Sea—good hunting, swift currents and peaceful waters. And if they don't, there are stories, too, of monsters in the depths leaving the dark and the deep, venturing into the shadows to prey on selkies and other sea creatures alike—the kind of beast that could eat a whale and still have room for more.

And that's not counting the weather or other atrocities the Sea could throw at them.

Morgan is more than a little lost in his thoughts when Naida notices his glum mood as she swims. She bumps him. “All right, I'm boring you, what's up?”

Morgan glances skyward, confused. “Clouds?”

“It's a human thing.” Naida laughs at him, flicking him on the nose. “I mean, what are you thinking?”

Morgan tells her about his fears, about whether or not Kevin will ever love him back, but Naida reassures him.

“It doesn't work that way. You loving him and being there for him this summer, that's fulfilling the Request. Him loving you back? It's not part of the story, brother.”

Naida swims silently with him, and Morgan doesn't mention the sorrow at the edge of her words. She's told lots of stories about her time on land, but sometimes Morgan senses that the couldn't-care-less attitude is an act, and something happened, something that broke her heart.